


The Cave

by Iron



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Beast Wars
Genre: Friends With Benefits, Inflation Kink, Knotfic, M/M, Stuck in a cave, aromantic rattrap, bottom Dinobot, breeding kink (minor)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:13:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24339439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iron/pseuds/Iron
Summary: Rattrap would claim it wasn’t his fault the cave collapsed, if anyone asked. No one does.—Dinobot and Rattrap decide to pass the time on carnal activities when they’re caught in a landslide while out on patrol.
Relationships: Dinobot&Rattrap, Dinobot/Rattrap
Comments: 5
Kudos: 36





	The Cave

**Author's Note:**

> For [@shinibunny_art](https://twitter.com/shinibunny_art?lang=en) on Twitter! Join me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/fab_roddy) if you want to chat!

They’re out on patrol when the cave-in happens. It’s not even a mission; Optimus had kicked them out of the ship and told them to figure out why they were fighting, and they’d gone. Dinobot has no interest in informing Optimus Primal of all mechs that he finds the way Rattrap bares his buckteeth at him in rage painfully attractive. 

They weren’t even supposed to be near the mountains; Rattrap had snapped something, making fun of Dinobot’s ‘warrior ways’, and they’d become so distracted by fighting each other that they hadn’t noticed their route going off-course. The mountains were still part of Maximal territory, and going vaguely in the right direction had been good enough for both of them.

Rattrap is snarling at Dinobot about the mech calling him “vermin” again when the first tremor shakes the mountain. It’s small enough that Dinobot barely feels it, but Rattrap does. The second tremor causes the ground to buck and roil, fissures opening under their peds. Rocks, precariously perched on the mountainside, start to roll and bounce and tumble. 

Stumbling, Rattrap transforms down to alt mode, hoping four peds will be steadier than one. A boulder flies past where his helm used to be, large enough to have knocked it clean off his shoulders. Dinobot shoves them both out of the open, into a narrow crack where two boulders met at the base of the mountain. 

Rattrap curls against Dinobot’s chest as the crash of rocks hitting the ground drowns out all other noise. They don’t move, ventilations caught in their chests, until the world has stilled. The world is too quiet in the aftermath. The only light sources in the cave are their dim optics, barely bright enough to see the outline of each other. Even accounting for adjusting the settings, they‘re both functionally blind. 

Dinobot drops the rat, taking in the wall of rock where the narrow entrance once was. “ We’re stuck. I can’t _believe_ you-“ 

“You’re the one that shoved us in here!” Rattrap clatters his denta at him, transforming and scratching the top of his skull. “Frag, it’s going to take them hours to dig us out.” 

“We would have been _crushed_!” 

“I woulda figured something out!” 

Dinobot scoffs. “You would have tried, and the mountain would have crushed us.” 

“Hey, you said _us_. We really have changed you.” 

“Shut up.”

Rattrap drops down into a crouch. He’s not standing there the whole time they wait for rescue. “Sit, sit. Watching you fuss is makin’ me all types of tired.” 

Dinobot hesitates for only a second before lowering himself to the ground, opening a comm to Optimus at the same time. 

::We’ve suffered a cave-in while on patrol due to unscheduled seismic activity. WE need a team at our current coordinates to dig us out:: 

::Sending Tigatron and Cheetor your way.:: 

Neither mech have strong frames; no doubt it would be hours until they were dug out of the cave, if they managed to do it at all without bringing the whole mountain down on their helms. 

Which Rattrap already seems to know, by the way he’s settled into the cave. “So’s, wanna frag?” 

If it were anyone else, Dinobot would be taken aback. Physical affection without force was rare among the Predacons, and among those in Megatron’s unit even more so. Before joining in the Maximals Dinobot couldn’t remember the last time he shared physical affection with someone. The Maximals were different - free with their frames, to varying degrees, and without shame. Rattrap is freer than most of his teammates, open with his affections and willing to accept even the likes of a former Predacon into his berth with all joy. They’d fallen together easily in his first months with the Maximals. The mech is rude, and he smells, and he’s full of unearned arrogance, but he had a kindness and honor to him that Dinobot can’t help but admire. 

According to Rattrap, Dinobot has “A really nice aft.” 

It hadn’t taken long for fragging between them to become a regular event. Even now, arguing with each other, sitting so close together meant that Dinobot’s systems were pinging him. His valve was already damp from their earlier arguing, and the cave is so small that there’s not enough room for them to be more than a foot or two apart. 

Rattrap feels the interest in his field. He can smell the musks of Dinobot’s lubricants beading at the edge of his panel, feel the arousal bleeding into his field. He’s used to the mech’s churlish habits. The way he starts to pull away when Rattrap doesn’t say anything about it, trying to get as much space between them as he can, as if afraid of encroaching on Rattrap with his desire. He knows how to solve this sort of thing for the mech; being open’s the only way to keep him from hiding. “Wanna frag?” 

Rattrap doesn’t react at all when the mech turns and swings one thigh over Rattrap’s hips to straddle him. He settles heavily in Rattrap’s lap, hands resting on the smaller mech’s shoulders. Rattraps drops his own to the mech’s hips. “That ain’t a yes, babe. Go on, you know the rules. Gotta _say it_ if you wanna _get it_.” 

“Your rules are atrocious.” Dinobot leans forward, mashing their mouths together. Fangs clack against overlarge front denta, wet and messy, and only pleasant because it’s Rattrap. “Frag me in this stupid cave and fill me up, you ridiculous rodent.” His panel clicks open, thick, ridged spike rising slowly from its sheathe as his damp valve is exposed to the cool air of the cave. 

It’s not like Rattrap could be expected to resist something as sweet at those plush lips grinding against his panel. It’s not that he _wants_ to, either. His spike is comparatively thick, with bulbous ridges that add far more width to his spike than it honestly might need, with a brushed silver finish. 

Rattrap digs his fingertips into the seam of Dinobot’s hips, feeling the plush lips of the larger mech’s valve part against his spike as he grinds down on him. The raptor is almost silent in his pleasure, bared fangs glinting in the low light cast by their optics. The sound of their venting is starting to fill the cave, made heavier by rising arousal. 

“You little -“ Dinobot shifts until his node is pressed firmly against the ridges of Ratbat’s spike with each grind of his hips. His lubricant is smoothing the way, each shiver and arch of his back leading to a gush of liquid against Rattrap’s spike. “You-“ 

“Too overcome, ah, by my spike to say anything?” Rattrap laughs. He pushes up against the other mech’s hot, soaking valve. 

Dinobot groans. “Shut up. Your talking doesn’t help get me off. That atrocious acc-eh-ent of yours -“ 

Rattrap hooks his claws into the wires deep inside Dinobot’s hip and _twists_ , smirking as the other Maximal’s back bows and he _howls_. “Pretty loud there for a mech who’s not enjoying himself.” 

“Shut up.” Dinobot shoves the hand splayed against his chest into his mouth, hard enough that his claws scrape the top of his mouth, and Rattrap tastes energon and metal. The array grinding against his spike shifts, hips rising only enough to let his spike rise and for Dinobot to impale himself on it. 

For a moment Rattrap’s vision goes staticky with pleasure. All he can feel is the liquid heat clenching down on his spike, calipers spiraling down to grip the thick ridges, lubricant spilling out onto his hips. His back bows as his transfluid lines attempt to spiral open, abdomen clenching to keep himself from rutting into the mech above him. The claws pressing down on his glossa curve, sharp tips piercing the mesh and flooding his mouth with the taste of his own internal fluids as Dinobot adjusts to his girth. 

“Don’t you - don’t you _dare_ overload, you rodent, you little -“ Dinobot’s hips shimmy as he grinds down, trying to shove the weeping tip of that almost-too-much, almost too-small spike against his sensor-rich gestational seal. The little rodent is too small for it, but the thought of him pushing through it and up into his carrying chamber is almost too much for him. 

“If you don’t want me popping off so fast, don’t go down on me with no warning like that!” Rattrap hisses as the urge to overload lessens, the words slurred around the mech’s fingers. He can feel the fluttering rim of Dinobot’s valve against the lowest ridge on his spike, the mech’s fat valve lips keeping him from taking him those last few centimeters. The ridge is almost too much for the larger mech’s little valve; it always is. He spits out Dinobot’s fingers, oral lubricants and energon dripping down his chin. Can’t talk if you’ve got claws threatening to tear out your glossa. 

“You are far too slow to be left to your own devices.” Dinobot hisses. “We’d be here all day if I left the pace to you.” 

“ _I_ just know how to enjoy the better things in life.” Rattrap scoffs, working his hips in little circles. Above him, Dinobot bites back a groan. 

“You’re a hedonist.” 

“And?” He slides one hand down from his hip seam, wrapping it around the wide, smooth base of Dinobot’s spike. He pulls on it lazily as Dinobot rides him, working the bottom three ridges in and out of himself in shallow grinding motions. Clear prefluid beads up at the tip as Dinobot pushes himself closer to overload. 

Rattrap watches him, for a moment lost on the sight of the warrior bringing himself pleasure. The faint light of his optics shining off of blue and orange plating, the sharp shadow of his fangs from a mouth opened by pleasure, it’s something he’ll never get tired of seeing. Condensation has gathered on his plating, leaving streaks on armor that hasn’t seen polish since before they crashed on this new world. 

His whole frame clenching in overload, the snap of the tension coiling in Dinobot’s frame is almost silent. It comes out in a hiss of pleasure, the clenching of his valve as it cycles down on Rattrap’s spike, transfluid spilling out across Rattrap’s lap. He collapses against Ratttrap’s chest, heavy enough to make the rodent’s armor groan under his weight. 

Rattrap smooths a hand up his spine, waiting for Dinobot to come back to himself. The base of his spike aches with the urge to overload, but he has to wait. He’d promised he’d always wait. “Knot or no knot?” 

“Hydraulic levels?” Dinobot mumbles, mouth slack. 

“Low enough that they won’t manage to dig us out before we can clean ourselves up.” 

Dinobot shifts his hips, oversensitive nodes singing with charge, clenching erratically around the still hard spike in his valve. “Go ahead. Fill me.” 

Rolling them both over and toppling Dinobot to the ground, Rattrap ruts wildly into the mech’s soft, wet valve. Three thrusts, the tip working its way deep into the larger mech’s sweet valve, and Rattrap is overloading. 

The first spray splashes against Dinobot’s inner nodes, the residual charge flaring and spreading through the sensor nodes spiraling up through his valve mesh. Rattrap’s knot grows slowly, catching on the loosened rim of Dinobot’s valve. The size difference allows Rattrap to thrust into him for far longer than he would if he were with a mech of a similar size, until the rim of his valve is stretched tight over the growing base of his spike. Stilling allows the lead to his transfluids take to cycle open fully. The second rushes towards the back of his valve, the sensation of it pressing against Dinobot’s gestational port in an attempt at forcing it to spiral open. The third spurt, hips snapping up against Dinobot’s, lets him flood his valve completely. The flow of transfluid is continuous, and it feels like someone’s wrapped a hand around his lower abdomen and _squeezed_. The pleasure crests and falls, and crests again with each spurt of fluid from his spike.

Beneath him, Dinobot squirms and gasps, clawed hands wrapping around Rattrap’s upper arms. The weight of his fluids must be heavy, a solid, sloshing presence inside his valve. He moans as the fluids taper off, leaving him bloated and sodden feeling. Rattrap settles between his thighs, all but collapsing. They’re still tied together, but Rattrap has enough experience with their size differences to figure out how to settle together. He’s almost kneeling, chest against Dinobot’s lower abdomen, helm against his chest. Dinobot shudders as the weight in his valve bears down on his gestational port, trying to trigger it. The plastic cap over the port keeps it from opening, but the pressure triggers a round of rolling overloads that leaves him shivering and weak-limbed. 

Rattrap groans as the feeling of Dinobot’s overloads sends him over the edge again, hips twitching as much as he can move while tied together. He reaches between them to press the pads of his fingers against Dinobot’s swollen node, making the mech swallow a scream as he’d pushed into another, harder overload. 

“Are you trying to offline me?” He complains, voice reedy. 

“A little. It’d shut ya up for once.”

“I should be saying that about you.” He wraps one hand around the back of Rattrap’s neck, thumb rubbing affectionate circles against the hollow beneath his helm. Rattrap nuzzles his chest, hips working in furious little circles. Slowly, transfluid tank aching, his overload ebbs away. He can feel the way the larger mech’s valve walls have stretched to accommodate his transfluid, calipers stretched out until they’re no longer touching his spike. The only pressure around his spike is the rim of Dinobot’s valve, the calipers too stretched out to clench down on him. 

They sit in silence for a while, engines thrumming in time, the temperature in the cave dropping slowly. Rattraps digs the towel out of his subspace as he feels the first drops of transfluid bead up out of Dinobot’s valve, the seal where their arrays meeting finally breaking as his knot slowly depressurizes. He wedges it between their hips and the ground as transfluid drips down Dinobot’s ass. 

Rattrap’s knot deflates fully, spike withdrawing into its sheathe as transfluid gushes from his valve. Dinobot shivers and jolts where he’s laying on the ground. It’s more a feeling of relief than pleasure that he feels as the transfluids flow from his valve, soaking the towel on the ground. Rattrap pets Dinobot’s valve, carefully probing his valve to feel for tears along the rim. The exhausted calipers attempt to clench down on his fingers, shivering and jumping. They’ll tighten up slowly over the next day. Besides being a little sore and swollen, his valve rim is fine. 

Rattrap helps the other mech close his panels, using the dry edge of the towel to clean up the last dredges of transfluid from his plating. “It’s probably going to be another few hours before they break through that wall.” 

“Longer than that. Rhinox injured his shoulder during the last mission. Cheetor and Tigatron are digging us out.” 

Rattrap winces, moving to sit with his back to the wall. Dinobot flops sideways with a groan, helm landing in Rattrap’s lap, and he pets him gently. “... you hungry?” 

“Shut up.” 

“Shutting up now.” The silence is comfortable. They listen to the muffled sound of someone digging through the rock outside the cave-in, optics dimmed. War is a hard place to find peace. Rattrap’s happy to take it where they can get it.


End file.
